Phantom Pain
by ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Gold and Lacey found love in a hopeless place, but the thing that brought them together is also the one thing keeping them apart. From the angsty sentence starter meme on tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

"Isn't it time we stop pretending we make each other happy?"

It's the most solemn he's ever seen Lacey French. Usually she's draped over him, whisky on her breath and a hand down his trousers. But now she's standing before him in his shop, small and sad, her hair damp from the rain.

It's funny how the weather sometimes echoes your mood. Gold awoke that morning knowing it would be a shit day and the weather clamored to keep up, clouds forming by midday and the heavens opening up by early afternoon.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, his voice hoarse, though he already knows what's coming. They were never made to last and it was only a matter of time before Lacey realized what he'd always known.

Lacey shrugs, just a bob of her thin shoulders beneath the thin fabric of her summer dress.

"You're using me," she says sadly. Her face is damp and he can't tell if it's from the weather or tears. "I'm not the one you really want and we both know it. And I suppose I'm using you too. Because you're the only person who loved my sister as much as I did and for some reason that meant something to me."

Gold looks at Lacey, really looks at her, for the first time since this affair started six months ago, and doesn't see Belle looking at him from behind those pale blue eyes. She's the spitting image of her sister, but for the first time, he fails to see a resemblance at all. Lacey is her own person and he hasn't been fair to her, or Belle's memory, or even himself.

Lacey isn't Belle. But that doesn't mean she's less. The realization is too little, too late.

"This thing we have," Lacey continues. "It's toxic. When you look at me, you only see her and I can't do it anymore."

Gold just nods. He isn't sure what he could possibly say to convince her otherwise. Because until a few moments ago, what she said was true.

When he looked at Lacey, he saw his dead lover. When he accepted her kisses and her love, it was a consolation prize for the love of his life being ripped from his arms too soon.

And now, as he finally realizes he's managed to fall in love with Lacey on her own merits, it's right as she's leaving for good.

"Goodbye, Gold," she says, her spine stiff and her jaw set. She is determined. He won't change her mind.

"Goodbye, Lacey."


	2. Chapter 2

"I regret it all. I really do, I swear. Please, please– let's fix this, please."

There is desperation in Gold's voice, an utter brokenness that almost sways her. She doesn't want him to hurt. It's what led to this mess in the first place, her desire to give him succor at any cost, even her own heart.

He is standing outside her apartment door, pleading with her to let him in. She's not sure why he's here. She thought she'd been clear the other night. There was nothing more for them. They weren't happy together and pretending to be was killing her.

Alexander Gold had never looked Lacey's way in the long years of their acquaintance. He'd only ever had eyes for one of the French twins and it certainly wasn't Lacey. Belle was the good sister, the responsible one, the caring one, the light of Gold's life. She'd been the light of Lacey's life as well. Losing her, it had almost killed them both. But somehow they'd managed to survive it together.

But survival does not a relationship make. Coming together over a shared loss, finding comfort in each other's arms, letting him pretend for a few stolen moments that she was Belle and his wife was still here, it was hardly healthy. And while Lacey had never much cared about her own health, she couldn't watch Gold keep self destructing this way.

She loves him too much for that.

And she hates herself for loving him. She hates herself for fucking her sister's husband while she lays cold in the ground. If one of them had to die young it should have been Lacey, not Belle. It was one of life's cruel jokes that her sister was dead and she was still here. She felt like half a person, a phantom pain radiating from the space her twin should still occupy. She'd patched herself together by leaning on Gold. They both missed Belle and they missed Belle together. But it was wrong.

"What do you regret?" she asks, her voice rasping over the words. She hasn't been well since she called things off a few days before. She's cloistered herself in her apartment, drinking and crying and missing her twin. Losing Gold somehow feels like losing Belle all over again no matter that she knows it's for the best. Perhaps that's why he's here. Perhaps he feels the same way.

"Everything," he says, his accent thick with emotion. "I'm sorry we happened this way. I'm sorry that Belle is gone and nothing we can do will bring her back. And I'm sorry that I used you. I'm sorry I didn't see you. I was too mired in my own pain that I didn't consider yours. You deserve better than that, Lacey. Let me try to fix this."

Lacey leans against the doorjamb, the cheap white paint flaking against her shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she says. "We were both hurting and we both made a choice, a bad one, but we're adults. I can own up to my part in this. But I can't see you anymore."

She moves out of the doorway, going to close the door and block out the sight of his sad eyes, the very same pain she feels constantly reflected back at her. But Gold slaps his hand out, stopping the door's momentum with deceptive strength. The light glints off the wedding ring he still wears on his left hand and the sight makes her sick to her stomach.

"Please, I can't lose you too," he says desperately. "Lacey, I can't be alone again."

She takes a deep breath, composing herself as best she can under the circumstances.

"That's not enough of a reason to be together," she says.

She could never be happy with Gold even if he could see her, beyond her resemblance to Belle. She carries too much guilt for that. Every breath she takes these days is a betrayal to her sister. Every moment she loves Gold is an insult to her memory. She's only been gone a year. It was mere months before she was in bed with her husband, letting him bury his head against her neck and call her by her sister's name and pretending she was too drunk to notice the slip up.

And now she loves him and she can't do this anymore.

"Would you have ever given me the time of day if I didn't look like her?"

She knows she's won the argument, but she can't find it in herself to be happy about it. Gold looks stricken and she knows his answer. No. If she didn't wear Belle's face he'd have nothing to do with her.

She just nods, shutting the door and this time Gold offers no opposition.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow they've ended up back here and she's not quite sure why or how.

She is braced against the workbench in the back of the pawnshop, her breathing labored, with Gold plastered against her as his cock softens inside her.

She'd sworn she wouldn't do it again. But by chance they ran into each other in the diner after not seeing each other for weeks. A few words were exchanged and next thing she knew they were rushing across the street together to the privacy of his shop.

"This whole time you've still been in love with her…" she mumbles against Gold's shoulder. They haven't even bothered to properly undress, her voice muffled against his dress shirt. "Not me."

She doesn't mean for the words to come out as petulant as they sound. Of course he loves Belle. He married Belle. If not for one colossal fuck up of the universe, he would still be married to Belle and Lacey wouldn't be here at all. She is simply a placeholder for the woman he lost. But somehow she has to say it aloud, to let him know she hasn't been fooled, that she doesn't think this is more than it is, that she won't let this become a regular occurrence again.

Gold lets out a breath that stirs her hair and sends shivers down her spine. His face is buried against her neck and his hands are gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

"That's not entirely true," he says, not moving to make eye contact. Lacey figures it's better if they don't look at each other when they have these types of conversations but his words have her pulling away, searching out his eyes to try to read the truth in them.

"What?"

Gold sighs, pulling out of her with a squelching sound that is utterly obscene in his place of business. He tucks himself away, righting his waistcoat and straightening his tie. Lacey just stays where she is, her skirt flipped up and her panties on the floor, completely exposed. She's not going to bother to make this easier for them anymore. He doesn't seem inclined to say anything more so she prompts him again.

"What do you mean by that?"

He looks up at her finally, his long hair hanging in his eyes. He looks distraught, as if every word is going to be pulled from him like a tooth.

"Of course I love Belle," he begins awkwardly. "I'll always love her. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with her."

Lacey just nods, wondering where he's going with this.

He braces himself with one hand on his gold handled cane, the other motioning between them.

"But I love you too," he finishes, his hand falling to his side where his thumb and forefinger rub together nervously.

Lacey absorbs the shock of that blow, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts. She loves him and now he's saying he loves her too. Does she believe him? Does it matter? Does it change anything? Because they still live with a ghost between them and there is no way to move past it.

"Oh," is all she manages to say, a simple sound to fill the silence that follows his proclamation.

"I'm sorry I never said anything," he says, staring down at his hands clasped on the handle of his cane. "But I didn't know what to do with it. Because I love Belle and every moment I spend with you feels like a slight to her memory. But she's not here and you are and I can't seem to stay away."

Lacey sighs, scooting off the edge of the workbench and pulling her skirt down to cover herself.

"I know the feeling," she says sadly. She knows it all too well.

His dark eyes are looking at her intently, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. She wants to kiss him, to run her fingers through that silky hair and tell him she loves him too. For one wild moment she wishes she'd never been born a twin, that she was an only child and Gold had met her first, not as the sister of his new girlfriend. And then her stomach rebels at such a selfish thought and she thinks she might be sick.

"We're never going to be happy you know," she says and Gold simply nods.

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

Gold had all but disappeared from Lacey's life since that last day in the pawnshop. She hadn't seen him in over a month. It was for the best. Perhaps in another universe, in another life, they could have been happy together, but in this one they would never move past Belle.

Lacey gave a snort. That wasn't true. In every other universe, in every other life, Gold was happily married to her sister. This universe was the one cock up, the one place where they didn't get their happy ending. Sometimes Lacey wonders if she even exists outside of this one narrow plane where Belle is gone. She's never felt like a whole person. She is merely a shadow that trailed after her sister and now that the solid, corporeal form of Belle is gone, she is not even that. She's something transient, a whisper on the wind, and she will be gone soon too.

It's a surprise when she finally sees him again, but at the same time inevitable. It's been so long since that day he told her he loved her that she's almost convinced herself that she hallucinated the whole thing. But there he is one night, standing outside her apartment door as she trudges home from a late shift at the Rabbit Hole. It's nearly three in the morning. She's tired and her feet hurt and she reeks of cigarettes and stale beer. Her makeup has mostly worn off and there's a stain on her tank top. Of course he would seek her out now, like this.

For Gold's part, he looks impeccable as always, looming silently in the shadows of her apartment building. He's dressed entirely in black, as usual, except for the bright red slashes of red on his striped tie. For a moment they look like blood, a splattering across him, some feral creature lying in wait for her. But she blinks, and it's just Gold again, leaning on his cane, his face impassive as she approaches.

She doesn't say anything, just fumbles with her keys and gets the apartment door open. She walks in, kicking off her heels and leaves the door open, wondering if Gold will take it as the invitation it is. She shouldn't let him in, but she misses him so damn much. Without Belle, without Gold, she is truly alone. Her entire body aches with it.

She hears the scuff of his cane on the threshold and the quiet click of the lock as he closes the door behind him. Lacey just continues on to the kitchen, shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it across the kitchen table as she heads to the fridge.

"Beer?" she asks, rifling through the contents of the fridge and surfacing with two bottles of something cheap. It's the first word she's said to him in how long? Fitting.

Gold looks disdainfully at the bottle in her hand before taking it, twisting off the top, and setting it on her counter untouched. Lacey opens her beer as well, but takes a fortifying sip, downing half the bottle in one gulp.

"Why are you here?" she asks finally, setting her bottle down next to his. He looks old under the fluorescent lighting of her kitchen, like he's somehow aged years since she last saw him. She supposes loss can do that to a person. She's sure she looks just as haggard.

"I wanted to explain," he says. "Explain where I've been and why."

Lacey leans back against the kitchen counter, waiting for him to continue.

"I've been busy," he says cryptically. "There's been a lot of upheaval in town lately."

Lacey can't say she's noticed, but Gold has always had his fingers in every pie in town. He would know better than her.

"But that's only part of the reason I've stayed away," he continues. "I've avoided you on purpose because I'm a coward."

His voice breaks on the last word, the first show of emotion since he appeared in the darkness tonight. Lacey crosses her arms against her chest, doing everything in her power not to reach for him.

"All of this was to protect myself," he says haltingly. "From the guilt and the shame. I was too cowardly to face you. Because I love Belle, and I love you and for a time that seemed insurmountable, but it doesn't anymore, Lacey."

What is he talking about? Of course it's insurmountable. They'd never have met if not for Belle. They'd never have come together if she hadn't died. There's no reconciling what they are with the memory of the person they both loved most. They are the worst sort of traitors for ever succumbing to it to begin with.

"We can never be happy together," Lacey says with a shake of her head, bile rising up the back of her throat at odds with the flutter of hope in her stomach. "We agreed on that much. This isn't just about your feelings Gold. Don't you think I feel guilty too? The only reason we started spending time together was because we're the only two people in town who seem to remember Belle at all. Everyone else just moved on. We can't move on too. We can't just let Belle disappear."

Her voice is rising in concert with her panic, with the screaming, clawing, raging creature that lives in her chest that is at once protective of Belle and jealous of her. The one that's been there her whole life if she lets herself think about it, even before the tragedy of Belle's death.

"We won't," he says with conviction, closing the space between them. His hands cup her cheeks, forcing her tear filled eyes to meet his, shining with hope like she's never seen them.

Her back is pressed against her kitchen counter, her front a hair's breadth away from the warm, solid figure of Gold. She can smell his spicy cologne, she can feel his breath against her face as his calloused thumbs caress her cheeks, and she wants him so much it is physically painful. His presence here tickles something at the back of her mind, like a memory of a dream that has long since faded.

He leans down, brushing his lips against hers. It's barely a kiss, a hint of something more but restrained, hesitant. There is none of the desperation and fire that usually drive their kisses. It's a question.

"Sweetheart," he says, pulling back from her with aching tenderness. It's the same endearment he used to use for Belle though and Lacey can't possibly handle it. She is not a replacement. She is not Belle. She wishes she could be, for him and for herself. But there's not enough of her to be Belle. Belle was whole and she is just a shadow.

"No," she says, wrenching her face out of Gold's light hold. "I'm not your sweetheart. Belle was. But I am not her!"

Gold's face crumples at her words, agony etched across every line. He looks like he's falling apart in front of her and she almost regrets her words. Almost.

Gold nods, backing away from her, out of her kitchen, out of her apartment, and out of her life.


	5. Chapter 5

Lacey wasn't surprised when she didn't see Gold again following that night at her apartment. She'd dismissed him in no uncertain terms. He had come to her, offering his heart and she'd turned it down. She had to. As optimistic as Gold had seemed that night in her kitchen, she couldn't find it in herself to share his feelings. He'd said their being together was no longer insurmountable, but why not? Nothing had changed. He was still her sister's husband and she was still the lesser twin left behind.

He'd looked crushed as he left, completely shattered. She was used to seeing Gold look sad. Their entire relationship was founded on their mutual grief after all. But she'd never seen him so resigned, so absolutely destroyed, as that night in her kitchen.

Not since the night both their worlds had been upended.

Belle was young, she was healthy, she was vital. And then in the blink of an eye she was gone, as though she'd never been there at all. She'd lived a whole life and there was nothing to show for it but the two broken people she'd left behind.

In her darker moments, which are frequent these days, Lacey thinks that when she dies, she won't even leave that much behind. Sure, Gold might mourn her for a moment or two. She's sure that the loss of her would only make him reflect on the loss of Belle. But he would move on. Lacey won't even leave any family behind to remember her. Her mother and sister are dead and her father has never had much use for her one way or another.

She is nothing to this town, she is nothing to the people in it. She is a bartender and an easy lay and a sad little girl in a sad little town. She has nothing left to give and nothing in this town had ever been hers to receive.

Even so, it's strange handing in her two weeks notice at the Rabbit Hole. She feels as though she's worked there forever, her dismal and booze soaked home away from home. It's even stranger packing up the meager contents of her small apartment. To see the entire sum of her life condensed down to three cardboard boxes and a beat up suitcase is a sobering thing. She has so little and so little impact.

She has sold the things she didn't want to take with her, a few old records and CDs sold back to the record shop, the bulk of her skimpy wardrobe passed on to the second hand store, her ugly floral sofa sold to Leroy for $60 and some scratch offs. Between that and the tips she's been saving up from the bar she has a couple hundred dollars; enough for gas money and food for a couple of weeks, enough to get her out of town and away from Gold. Even as she thinks it, she knows it's not enough.

She has only one possession that is actually worth much of anything, the only thing she has of her mother's. It's a pearl drop necklace, anchored by a tiny diamond, real as far as she knows. It's pretty and delicate and has never suited Lacey's style, but she held on to it anyway. She had loaned it to Belle to wear on her wedding day and it looked so at home around her slender, pale neck, above the ivory lace sweetheart neckline of her dress. Lacey had taken it back that very same night, hoarding it in her jewelry box at home and hating that Belle could pull it off in a way she never could. Hating that Belle had everything and she was nothing, just scum.

A fat tear escapes Lacey's lashes, trickling down her cheek as she looks at the necklace now. Belle could have the stupid thing, wear it every day, if only she would come back.

Lacey looks up at the pawnshop in front of her, not even remembering the walk here, the necklace clasped in one hand. It's the only thing of value that she has and this is the only place in town where she can sell it.

She's put off this errand, deliberating. She needs the money, and in the end that's the thought that drove her here. But the necklace has a value she can't name. And facing Gold now, for the first time in weeks, as she's about to leave town forever, seems daunting. Either he'll try to convince her to stay, terrified of losing the one connection to Belle left on this earth, or he'll give her more than the necklace is worth, eager to see her gone. Lacey isn't sure which option would sting worse.

She's sure he was confused all those weeks ago when he said he loved her. She's sure he was even more confused the night he came to her apartment and told her they could be together. His silence over the past few weeks is proof enough of that. If he really loved her, really wanted to be with her, he'd have shown his face, wouldn't he?

The thought bolsters Lacey as she pushes the door of the shop open, the little bell tinkling and heralding her arrival. He doesn't love her. He never did. She is a stupid girl who fell for the first man who showed her any amount of tenderness no matter how ill gained. If she can only leave, get away from this town and his presence, that much will be clear.

She stiffens her spine as she hears Gold's voice from the backroom.

"I'm busy, Miss Swan," his voice booms through the curtained partition. "Please come bother me another time."

Lacey isn't sure who Miss Swan is, but she doesn't much care as she pushes the curtain aside, framing herself in the doorway to the back of the shop. Gold doesn't even bother to look up from what he's fiddling with, stitching something it looks like. She wasn't even aware he could sew. There are still so many things about Gold she doesn't know.

"Not Miss Swan," she says, earning his attention at last.

Gold's head snaps up to look at her. His eyes go wide, his mouth falling open, and for a moment it's as though he's seen a ghost. Lacey wonders if he always has that reaction to her, that gut punch of seeing Belle only to realize after a split second that it's not her at all, just the pale imitation.

"Lacey," he says breathlessly, his lips obviously wanting to form another name. "Hey."

If it were better circumstances, Lacey would laugh to think that the scantily clad barfly of Storybrooke could ever reduce the always loquacious Mr. Gold to such a monosyllabic greeting. But there are no better circumstances here and she can't find it in herself to even crack a smile.

"I'm here on business," she says, before he can think or say anything else, anything that might tempt her away from her current quest.

Gold's brow quirks in confusion. "Is this about the rent?"

Lacey resists the urge to roll her eyes. He hasn't charged her rent in years, not since he married Belle. One day he stopped showing up to collect. When Lacey confronted him about it, he said the apartment was overpriced and he didn't swindle family. They had been family once. Now they were nothing.

"Of course not," she says, crossing her arms against her chest, the feel of the necklace biting in to her palm. She can't find it in herself to hand it over to him just yet.

"No matter," he says, standing from his spot at his workbench and slowly working his way around it to stand in front of her. "I'm glad you're here."

"Why?" she demands with narrowed eyes.

"Would you believe I missed you?" he asks, his lips quirking up in the beginnings of a smile that is all at once endearing and infuriating. Infuriating because he thinks he can flirt with her even now, and endearing because it's no more than what her heart wants.

"No," she states simply. She can't believe that's true. Because if it is, perhaps he does care. Perhaps she's been mistaken. Perhaps the love she feels for him is reciprocated just as strongly. That knowledge would destroy her. It's easier to pretend he doesn't care. "Maybe you just missed my cunt."

She almost regrets her words when she sees him flinch, stepping back and leaning heavily on his cane. He looks so tired.

"Don't do that," he says, his eyes fixed to the floor.

"Do what?" she asks.

"Pretend this was all something cheap."

Lacey laughs harshly, a mirthless bubble of manic laughter escaping her throat. "Isn't it?" she demands. "Wasn't it always? You fucked your dead wife's sister, Gold. That's not a noble pursuit."

Something hard and cruel has taken up residence in her chest, something foreign. Lacey is many things, but she's never been senselessly cruel. It's as though she's not even in control of her own words.

"You fucked me right here in this room," she continues to lash out. "On that very table. You made me come over and over and I wanted it so badly I pretended not to notice when you called me by my sister's name. I was never more than a sex toy who looked like the woman you really gave a shit about."

His shoulders are hunched, his face pained and Lacey feels as though she is surfacing from the swell of anger, her head breaking the surface of the water and gulping in the fresh air that was denied her. She can't believe the things she just said to him and yet they're nothing more than the darkest thoughts she's held in her heart.

"Why are you saying this?" he asks, his voice ragged, his eyes still not meeting hers. She's never noticed just how small he is. Gold always seems to be the biggest man in the room despite his small stature. She has rendered him tiny and she hurts for it.

"When you looked at Belle, you always had this sparkle in your eye," she says, haltingly, each word a pain to admit. "Like this light, this fire that only burned for her. But you never had that shine in your eye when you were with me."

Gold finally looks at her then, his gaze piercing.

"Is it possible, do you think, that you're misremembering things?"

"What are you saying? That you never really loved Belle?"

"No of course not!" he cries. "Of course I loved her. I will always love her. But Lacey…"

She holds out the necklace, the delicate chain clenched in her white knuckled fist, cutting off his words before either of them can do more damage.

"How much can you give me for this?" she demands, the low light catching on the lone diamond on the necklace, winking feebly.

Gold just stares at the necklace and she knows immediately that he's recognized it. She can see it play across his face as plain as day. He is picturing that necklace around Belle's neck, delicate and beautiful as she was. His eyes are misty when he looks back at her, the look on his face so soft and tender that she wants to throw the necklace in his face and run away.

"There's no need to sell this," he says with a shake of his head. "If you need money, I'm happy to help."

"I don't want a handout," she says. "I don't want your money, or your pity, or your love. I don't want any of it."

The lie stings her tongue. She wants his love more than anything in the world and yet it's the one thing she can never truly have. It hurts so much, but she won't cry in front of him. Not again.

"You've made your feelings quite clear," he says with a nod, his face suddenly composed, the Mr. Gold mask that he wears for everyone else in town sliding in to place. It hurts more than any cruel words ever could. He is shutting her out, finally. "I'll give you three hundred for the necklace."

Lacey nods, not even bothering to haggle the price. It's probably more than the lone little pearl is worth.

She follows him out to the register where he pulls three crisp hundred-dollar bills from the cash drawer. Lacey drops the necklace on the glass countertop with a little clink, giving it one last glance before Gold sweeps it into a small velvet bag and tucks it away. It's not hers any longer.

"Does that conclude our business, Miss French?" he asks, his voice civil but cold. This should make it easier to leave, she tells herself. Earning his censure even his hatred just means she's cut her last remaining tie to Storybrooke. She should feel free.

Instead she feels numb.

"Yeah," she agrees. She can think of no reason why she should stand here for another moment. The cash he handed her finds its way into her jacket pocket and seems to sit there heavily, weighing her down. He has just paid her to leave his life for good.

"I think we can agree that we probably shouldn't see each other again," he continues. "It doesn't reflect well on either of us."

"Don't worry," she says, turning to head out of the shop, but chancing one last glance over her shoulder at the man she loves. He's not hers any longer either. He never truly was. "I'm already gone."


	6. Chapter 6

It is dark, so dark she can't see a thing. She walks forward, her hands stretched out in front of her, looking for something solid or real, something she can hold on to. But there is nothing within her grasp but empty air. She is alone.

Then she feels something to her right, heat tickling her cheek. She looks to the side but can't see a light source, nowhere the warmth could be coming from. She can smell it too, smoke and fire, hear the cheerful crackling sound.

Perhaps she is dead. She's never been the religious sort but if there is a hell she knows she is bound for it. It is dark, and hot, she can feel sweat trickling down her neck but still there's nothing there. And then she feels a hand roughly grab her arm, wrenching her to the side.

The first thought in Lacey's head upon waking is confusion. She'd been headed out of town, hadn't she? Had she fallen asleep in her apartment before leaving?

Suddenly the crackling of the fire, the source of the heat, becomes clear. The entire front end of her car is engulfed in flames.

Lacey gasps, panic setting in. She must have been in a wreck.

She grabs at her seatbelt, pulling at it to no avail. She is trapped. She is going to die here. And she'll go straight to hell for the things she's done. She won't even have the balm of seeing Belle or their mother again. She could never hope to go anywhere two people as good as them are sure to have ended up.

"Hey!" a voice cuts through Lacey's panic and she turns to the side. A blonde woman is reaching across the passenger seat, talking to her, but she can barely make out what she's saying, her ears ringing and her vision darkening around the edges.

"Stay with me," the woman says. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

She has a knife in her hand, cutting through the seatbelt around Lacey's waist. A few moments later, it pops apart and the woman is pulling at Lacey's arm again.

She drags her out of the car, something pulling at Lacey's leg as she does so. She lets out a scream at the pain, but the woman doesn't stop, just dragging Lacey to the side of the road until they are several yards away from the fiery car.

"Are you okay?" the woman asks. Sheriff Swan, Lacey's addled mind supplies. She won the election a few weeks ago. Lacey hadn't bothered to vote. That must have been the Miss Swan Gold was expecting the other day when she sold him the necklace. Lacey vaguely wonders if he has something going on with the new sheriff as well. She is pretty.

"Hey!" comes Sheriff Swan's voice again as she snaps her fingers in front of Lacey's face. "I said stay with me."

But Lacey doesn't want to stay. She wants to crawl back inside her car and let the flames take her. She doesn't want to be here anymore.

The blackness at the edges of her vision starts to encroach until all she can see is the sheriff's worried face, far away as though she is looking through a pinprick. And then even that view is gone.

The next time Lacey comes to, all she can feel is pain. It's like she's been slammed in to by a truck. Her head aches, her right leg is agony, her side hurts.

"Well look who's awake," comes a cheerful voice from beside her. Lacey blinks, looking up in to the plastered on smile of Dr. Whale. She lets out a groan, shutting her eyes again.

"You were in an accident," Dr. Whale continues, oblivious to her disgust. "Seems you lost control of your car near the town line. But you were lucky. A broken leg, a few bruised ribs, and probably one hell of a headache, but otherwise you're just fine. If Mr. Gold hadn't been there…"

Lacey's eyes snap open at that.

"What?" she demands. "The sheriff…"

"Pulled you from the wreckage, yes," Whale finishes her sentence. "But she was only there because Mr. Gold called her. Seems he happened upon you only moments after the accident."

Lacey lets her head sink back against the flat hospital pillow. Where the hell was Gold going that he'd found her so quickly? Lacey doesn't believe in fate or luck or coincidence. The bastard must have followed her.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Whale intones as Gold enters the hospital room. His face is pale and drawn, his suit jacket rumpled as though he'd slept in it. He is the dearest sight in the world and the one thing Lacey never wanted to see again.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice croaky and her throat dry.

"Seeing with my own eyes that you're still alive," he says.

Whale glances between them before backing away from the hospital bed.

"I'll just give you some space," he says genially before backing out of the room altogether. The door closes with a soft click behind him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Gold demands as soon as Whale is gone. He stalks in to the room, his cane tapping against the linoleum. "Why would you try to leave town? You could have killed yourself, Lacey. You could have died!"

"But I didn't," she sulks. "You saw to that, didn't you?"

Gold blinks. "Are you angry with me for saving your life?"

Lacey deflates. She isn't angry with him, not really. She is angry with herself. She is angry at the universe at large. But she isn't angry at Gold.

"Lacey," Gold starts, his voice suddenly gentle. "Were you trying to…" he trails off, unable to finish the thought. Was she trying to hurt herself? To kill herself? That is the question he wants to ask.

"No, of course not," she says, shaking her head and immediately regretting it as her brain seems to rattle around inside her skull. "I was just trying to get away from here. I thought if I could leave everything would be better somehow."

Lacey realizes with a sinking stomach that there will be no leaving now. Her car is destroyed, her meager possessions gone with it. She has no way to leave town and nothing to her name. She hopes her wallet has made it out of the car or she won't even have money for dinner. She'll have to go back to working at the Rabbit Hole but even that seems a pipe dream with a cast up to her hip encasing her shattered leg.

In running she has only made matters worse.

Now that she's disabused him of the notion that she is suicidal, the righteous anger returns to Gold's voice.

"You could have died," he accuses again. "Was getting away from me worth that?"

"Are you angry with me?" she asks, returning his question. She wonders how long she's been in the hospital. She can see daylight outside and it had been dark when she left town. Had Gold spent the whole night here? Had he been sitting in the hospital waiting room for hours waiting to hear whether she was alive or dead? Had she put him through this again? Belle had died. He couldn't be angry with her. But Lacey is here and he has so much rage.

Gold looks stricken, shaking his head before sinking down into the chair beside the hospital bed.

"No, Lacey, I'm not angry at you," he says, the fight seeming to go out of him. "I think you were stupid and impulsive and you nearly destroyed everything, but I can't be angry at you, just at myself. Because I knew this would happen and I let myself fall in love with you anyway."

There he goes again with talk of love. Lacey bristles. He doesn't love her. He can't love her. If he loves her what does that mean he felt for Belle? What does that make her, taking her sister's beloved husband away from her? She shuts her eyes tightly, blocking out the sight of the broken man beside her and having the added benefit of hiding the tears in her eyes.

He loves her, so he says. And she loves him. And they can never be happy together because of Belle. Because they loved her and she is gone and they are left behind to deal as best they can. But happiness would be a betrayal. Scraping by, that's all they deserve.

"Don't say that," she says tremulously. "Don't say you love me. Just please, don't."

She opens her eyes to find Gold staring at her, looking just as weary as she feels.

"May I ask why not?"

Lacey snorts, a harsh sound that hurts her throat. "Because you can't."

Then Gold does the unthinkable. He laughs, discordant and wrong. He doubles over in the hospital chair, the laughter shaking his shoulders. For a moment Lacey is afraid he's suffered some sort of psychotic break.

"Oh she's good," Gold says with a shake of his head, surfacing from his bout of hysteria. "This is bloody perfect."

Lacey is at a loss. "What are you talking about?"

Gold motions his hand between them. "This," he says. "Us. It's designed to drive me fucking crazy. We can never be together. You can never believe that I would love you. Neither of us can ever move on because you can't move on from something that wasn't supposed to end!"

Is he only just realizing this? His marriage to Belle was never supposed to end. How can he hope to move on from that? How can Lacey?

"No," she says. "We can never be happy together."

It is her mantra, the thing she repeats over and over to herself. The one thing that makes sense in this world is that she will never be happy. It's as though she is cursed and that curse is spreading, taking Gold down with her.

Gold nods, agreeing with her, she's glad to see.

"For now," he says, his face suddenly grim. "But things will change, Lacey."

With those enigmatic words ringing in her ears, he gets up and leaves the room.


	7. Chapter 7

It quickly becomes apparent to Lacey that she is utterly helpless. After a few days in the hospital, it's slightly easier to move without her entire body shutting down in pain, but her cast is unwieldy. She requires a nurse's help the first time she tries to make it to the restroom and it's a new kind of indignity to have someone steadying her while she attempts to take a piss.

On the fourth day, she is discharged. She's almost glad of it. She has no idea how she's going to afford the hospital bills with no money and no insurance and no job, much less the physical therapy she's been told she'll need, so getting out as soon as possible is preferable. But as the nurse wheels her into the lobby she realizes with a sinking feeling that she has nowhere to go. She's already given up her apartment. She's quit her job. She can't even live out of her car seeing as it's completely totaled and burnt to a crisp.

She supposes she could go to Gold and beg for a place to live. He'd give her something on the cheap, she's sure of it. But she can't bear the idea of groveling to him. So instead she sits in the waiting room with her crutches laid across her lap, her chair parked in front of the big sliding glass doors of the hospital, and tries not to cry.

Lacey has never been one for tears and she's certainly not going to start now.

The only things she has to her name are the clothes on her back, the three hundred dollars cash Gold gave her for the necklace in her coat pocket, and a her cell phone which is now sporting a cracked screen since the accident. The rest of her money and possessions were destroyed in the crash.

She quickly does the math in her head, wondering how many nights at Granny's $300 can afford her. Granny has always been kind to her. Perhaps she'll let her stay at a discounted rate if she earns her keep in the diner. Of course, the idea of waiting tables and being on her feet all day with a cast up to her hip is laughable. Lacey can barely maneuver around on the pair of crutches the hospital provided her with. There's no chance in hell she could keep up with the dinner rush.

Still, Granny's is her best option for now. Groveling to Granny is better than debasing herself to Gold or her father. And Ruby has always been a friend, even if she hasn't seen much of her since Belle died. She was always more Belle's friend than Lacey's.

Now that she's decided on a place to go, the next step is getting there. She can't spare the money for a cab, but the hospital is several blocks from Granny's and she's not sure she can make it on her crutches. Too bad she has to leave the wheelchair behind or she could just roll her way into town.

Instead, she braces one crutch against the floor, hoisting herself up into a standing position and getting the crutches under her arms with as little embarrassment as possible. Once she's standing, it takes a moment to steady herself before she's ready to take a step. She's so busy trying not to fall flat on her ass and risk further injury that she almost collides with someone entering the hospital.

"Lacey," Gold exclaims, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her arm. She hates the way warmth seems to spread through her whole body from the simple touch and shrugs him off.

He hasn't been by to visit since her first night in the hospital. She should have known he'd turn up again at some point though. Bloody perfect that he's here right when she's at her lowest.

"What are you doing here?" she asks sullenly. She feels like she's always asking him that. Why does he seem to think she's worth his time and effort?

"I heard you were being discharged today," he returns. Lacey doesn't bother to ask how he knows such a thing. Gold knows everything, he always has. He's rich enough to afford all the information in town and if someone can't be bought, he's intimidating enough to force what he wants from them.

Lacey just snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm a free woman."

Gold nods, turning to motion out the hospital doors. "I'm parked just out front."

Lacey doesn't immediately register what he's offering. A ride, she supposes. She's out one car these days as he well knows. She's almost tempted to slide into the warm front seat of his Cadillac and let him taxi her around town. But if she tells him to take her to Granny's he'll probably insist on paying. She can't stomach that. A payment for services rendered. She's debased their relationship, called it out for the sordid thing it is, but allowing him to pay for her would put it over the edge. It would feel too much like a transaction.

"I don't need a ride, thanks," she says, hobbling past him on her crutches and out the door. She doesn't need the telltale tap of his cane against the pavement to tell her he's followed her.

"Yes you do," he insists. "You not only need a ride, you need a place to stay. Dr. Whale said you shouldn't be on your own."

"You talked to my doctor?" she shouts, wheeling around on the crutches and almost toppling into the hedges outside the hospital. "That's an invasion of privacy."

"He was concerned about you," Gold counters. "And I'm your next of kin on your hospital forms."

Lacey sighs. She'd forgotten about that one. That her closest family member is her brother-in-law she's trying desperately not to fuck anymore.

"Look, I'd offer you your apartment back but it's on the second floor with no elevator," he says. "I don't think you could manage it at the moment. So will you please come home with me?"

"No," she says, almost on reflex. She can't move in with Gold, not when she was so close to breaking free of whatever spell she's been under with regards to him. She needs to leave. She needs to be far away from him or she'll lose herself again. Her pathetic heart can't take it.

Gold looks frustrated. If he were a more petulant man she thinks he might actually stamp his foot. His mouth settles into a grim line, his eyes hard.

"You shouldn't be alone, Lacey. You need help, why won't you let me give it?"

She's not good at accepting help from anyone, least of all him, that's why. She's so fucking in love with him and he says the sweetest things to her and looks at her like maybe he does see someone there beyond Belle's familiar face. But she will always be half of something else and so will Gold. Without Belle they don't work and if Belle was alive they wouldn't work either.

Cursed.

"Is this what you wanted?" she demands, that cruel creature that resides deep in her heart and seems to always want to rise up and snap at Gold coming to the fore once again. "Did you want me so completely desperate and alone that you're my only option? Are you satisfied with the mess you've created out of me?"

She doesn't know why she's blaming him for all of this. It's not as though he caused her accident. It's not as though he broke her leg and her spirit and her heart. She did all of that on her own. Running has never got her anywhere she wanted to go and yet she continues to do it, compelled to flee from any chance at happiness.

Gold's eyes are large and pleading and oh so sad. In the feeble sunlight outside the hospital they seem lighter, almost amber. When he's angry they are dark and when he loves her they become black as night. But the amber eyes, those are the ones she can't take.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out, and she truly is. She doesn't want to hurt him. Gold has had enough hurt for one lifetime. "I didn't mean that. I'm just not good at accepting hand outs."

"If you don't want a hand out, don't let it be one," he reasons. "You'll need a job. Come work for me."

Lacey scoffs, motioning down at her cast. "If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit useless at the moment."

Gold just shrugs. "It's not as though I'm asking for a jogging partner," he says, tapping his cane against his bad leg. "I manage the pawnshop alright. So will you."

Lacey feels chastened for a moment. She's been so caught up in her own misery she didn't even think about Gold's own disability. He never lets it slow him down, never seems negatively impacted by it, so she often forgets he even needs the cane for more than aesthetic purposes. Here she is moaning about a few weeks in a cast when she's expected to make a full recovery and whatever accident befell Gold left him unable to walk unaided for life. For the first time she wonders what happened. She supposes she'll probably never know.

"There's no shame in accepting help," Gold continues. "No man is an island."

And damn it, but she knows he's right. As she's just shouted at him, she has no other options. She needs a place to stay and she needs a job.

"Fine," she agrees after a long moment. "But I'm just staying until I get back on my feet, literally."

"Of course," he says.

"And I am leaving town eventually," she adds. "You won't stop me."

Gold's mouth twists a little bitterly, but he nods. "Agreed."

"And it goes without saying that just because I'm staying in your house doesn't mean we'll go back to the way things used to be. I'm sleeping alone."

Gold stiffens, giving his head a little shake. "I would never take advantage. I hope you know that."

And she does know that. Of course she does. He's never taken anything from her that she didn't give oh so willingly. She trusts him more than she trusts herself.

"Then it's a deal."


	8. Chapter 8

It's been a long time since Lacey has set foot in Gold's big pink mansion on the edge of town. Their first few grief-fueled trysts had taken place in the shop, a rented room at Granny's, her apartment. Nothing had ever happened between them here.

That was by design, of course. Lacey doesn't belong here. This is Belle's house, hers and Gold's. It's a remnant of their happy life together and always will be. She could never defile it.

But now she enters the big wooden front door with its stained glass panels not knowing when she'll leave again. She's signed her life away out of desperation. She's done the unthinkable and made a deal with the Devil of Storybrooke. He is now her employer and her roommate. Lacey feels a chill down her spine at the thought. She is now more bound to him than ever before.

She follows Gold through the front hallway and he motions her past the living room to a part of the house she's never seen. It's awkward on her crutches, trying to skirt around the spindly tables and knick knacks Gold has accumulated in this mausoleum of a house. Nothing in it has changed since Belle's death. Her presence is still here, oppressive and hopeful and filled with so much pain she's not sure how Gold can bear it.

"Your room," he says, pushing open a door at the end of the hallway.

Lacey blanches at the sight of the room. It's filled with floor to ceiling shelves stuffed full of books. It looks to have once been an office or a library, probably the latter considering her sister's love of the written word. But instead of a desk or a reading chair or anything else Lacey would expect to see in the room, there is a small bed accompanied by a nightstand set into the alcove. On the other side of the room stands a wardrobe with a full-length mirror beside it.

"Why here?" she asks. She feels uncomfortable here, something discordant going off in her head like alarm bells. This is supposed to mean something and she doesn't understand what it is. Why is he putting her here in a room that was surely Belle's?

She's stayed overnight here before, back when she'd come over for dinner with Belle and Gold and have too much wine and need to sleep it off. She knows there's a perfectly serviceable guest room upstairs with a four-poster bed and a walk in closet conveniently located near the guest bath.

Gold shuffles his feet, looking down at the head of his cane clenched in his hand. He's nervous, Lacey realizes for the first time. Something in her heart seizes at that, that he might be just as off balance by all this as she is.

"The guest room is next door to the master bedroom," he says haltingly. "I thought you might want more space than that. Not to mention you probably couldn't handle the stairs at the moment."

He's placed her here, as far from his own bedroom as possible. He's given her the whole bloody floor. Lacey knows there are more bedrooms upstairs, jammed full of inventory for the shop that hasn't made its way there yet. Gold and Belle never had any children, they didn't need all those extra rooms. They'd only used the master, and set up the guest room next door for Belle's drunken fuck up of a sister.

Lacey feels a wave of tears threaten to choke her and she nods and turns away. It's thoughtful what he's done. But it must have taken him some time to set up. He'd anticipated her needs. He'd come to the hospital to collect her with a plan. She isn't sure if that warms her heart or pisses her off that he knew she'd accept his offer.

"I, um…" she begins. "I need to unpack."

It's a bald faced lie and she's sure he sees through it. The only thing she has in hand is a plastic bag from the hospital filled with the meager possessions that were in her pockets at the time of the accident and the pharmacy bag filled with prescription painkillers and antibiotics they picked up on the ride from the hospital. She doesn't even have any spare underwear for God's sake. But Gold just nods, backing away and giving her the room.

Lacey hobbles over to the bed, easing herself down on to it and wincing at the effort. Everything still hurts even if it's been lessened to a duller throbbing thanks to the medication she's on. Lacey leans the crutches against the side of the bed and takes a good look around the room.

There are knick-knacks in here, though fewer than in other parts of the house as every surface is mostly devoted to books. There's a statute of a dark haired woman in a blue dress on one shelf, and high up on another sits what looks to be a chipped China teacup.

Lacey is momentarily arrested by it. It's a simple thing, just white with a blue pattern. It certainly doesn't seem like anything special and yet it's been placed here, out of harms way on the highest shelf. She has the urge to go to it, pick it up and turn it over in her hands, to run her finger over the chip in the rim. But there's no way she could manage the ladder to reach it with her cast, so she shakes off the urge. Perhaps another time.

On closer inspection, she sees that the books lining the shelves aren't all dusty old tomes, bound in leather and suitably impressive and imposing, though there are plenty of those. But there's also an entire case dedicated entirely to more recent best sellers, and even a shelf of what looks to be children's books. Lacey can't imagine what Gold is doing with those unless they're bound for the shop at some point. Or perhaps Belle had purchased them in anticipation. Her sister had wanted children, of that she's certain, and it would be just like Belle to buy up books for her future child.

The idea is like a punch to the gut and Lacey feels the need to lie down. She lays back against the pillows, getting her broken leg up on the bed and wrapping her arms around herself.

Her sister had a whole life planned, a life with Gold. They were going to have a family, she was going to sit in here and read to their little ones. Lacey can almost picture it, Belle curled up in a big arm chair in the very same alcove her bed now sits with a brunette little boy with golden brown eyes snuggled in her lap as she reads a story about dragons or knights or ogres. All that had been stolen from Belle, from Gold as well. And Lacey remains, a pale imitation.

Suddenly the tears that have been threatening to fall since the hospital are streaming down her face and Lacey does nothing to stem them. She needs to cry. She cries for her sister, for the cruel way she was taken, for the life that was stolen from her. She cries for Gold. She cries for herself, for the fact that she loves this man but she will never be able to give him what he needs, what he deserves. She cries so hard that she eventually cries herself to sleep.

* * *

She wakes up to a gentle knocking on the library door what could have been minutes or hours later. The light coming in from beneath the curtained window is a fair bit dimmer than it was when she arrived at the house, so Lacey assumes some time must have passed.

"Come in," she says, once she's sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes, wiping a hand across her face to check for any drool. She's sure her eyes are still puffy and red, but it's not as though she's trying to impress Gold. Not anymore.

"Hey," he says almost shyly, poking his head in before opening the door all the way. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Lacey shakes her head. "I just fell asleep for a bit. Still getting used the painkillers, I think."

Gold nods, moving further into the room.

"I hope it's alright, but I got you a few things," he says, holding out a bag from Storybrooke's one and only department store and a plastic bag from the pharmacy. Lacey takes them and rifles through the contents. He's purchased her soap, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, a box of disposable razors and even tampons. The department store bag contains underwear, a few bras, and some simple clothing items including t-shirts, sweaters, a couple of suitably short skirts to her style, and a pair of ballet flats. A quick check reveals that everything is exactly her size, even the bras.

"How…how did you know my size?" she asks, looking up at him slightly bewildered.

Gold blushes slightly, something she's always amazed she can make him do. She supposes it is an awkward question, asking how he guessed her bra size.

"You're the same size as…" he trails off, not needing to finish the sentence. The same size as Belle for whom he surely bought lingerie over the years.

"Oh," is all she can say to that. The elephant that is always in the room seems to take up more space here, in Belle's library, than it ever has. She's not sure how she'll survive much more of this.

"Lucky guess," he continues, after clearing his throat. "You can shop for yourself as soon as you feel up to it. This is just to get you settled in."

Lacey nods, clutching the bags to her chest. Having a few possessions, no matter how little, makes her feel somewhat better, less adrift and alone in the world. Of course it's not really hers. Gold bought it all.

"How much do I owe you?" she asks. She still has the cash from the necklace in her coat pocket. She can pay him back.

Gold's eyes widen and for a moment she's sure he's going to tell her she doesn't owe him a thing. But he seems to reconsider, knowing how well that would go over with Lacey.

"Consider it an advance on your first paycheck," he says with a smirk. "Don't forget, you start work tomorrow."

"Of course," Lacey says with another stiff nod. She feels so awkward here, so out of her element. She has never felt awkward with Gold. She has felt angry and elated and sad and broken and conflicted, but never awkward.

"I was about to make dinner," Gold says, breaking the tension. "Would you like to help?"

Lacey's first inclination is to say no, but she has nothing to do instead but sit in this library surrounded by her sister's ghost and feeling sorry for herself.

"Okay," she agrees. She struggles to stand up, Gold offering her a hand which she reluctantly takes. She's going to have to start depending on him, she realizes. He's not out to hurt her, not intentionally. But she knows he will. He always does. Something deep in her bones, something older than herself, warns her that this will leave her crying and more broken than ever before. But for now, she hobbles after Gold into the kitchen, allowing him to set her up at a stool at the kitchen island to chop vegetables for soup. By the time they're seated at the kitchen table, so less imposing than the long dining room table in the room adjacent, Lacey almost feels like she can breathe again.

And despite knowing that she shouldn't get comfortable here, that it will only lead to ruin, she allows herself to just breathe.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This fic has been nominated in the Angst: Why? and Best Golden Lace categories of The Espenson Awards over on tumblr! Thanks to everyone who nominated this fic! Please enjoy a slight break in the angst.

* * *

It comes as a shock to Lacey how naturally she falls into working for Gold. On her first day in the shop – her first time there since she sold him her mother's necklace and said goodbye to him forever – she is tense and wary. Gold sets her up in the back room transcribing his handwritten payment ledgers into a spreadsheet on a fairly ancient computer. It's slow busy work and the computer freezes every half hour or so, but at least it keeps her off her feet.

"You're richer than Midas," she calls out to him after the second reboot of the computer. "You can't afford a computer made in this century?"

Gold appears in the doorway to the back of the shop, his hand braced on his cane. He always seems most confident here in his domain. Perhaps that's why it was the scene of most of their trysts. The sight of him cutting a slim figure in his dark suit still causes a slight thrill to course through her. He's handsome and dangerous and she's lost her heart to him once before. She can't let it happen again.

"I don't believe in throwing things out just because they're a little damaged," he says, his eyes glinting in the low light of the shop.

"Admirable," Lacey snarks back, slamming her hand against the side of the bulky white monitor. "But if you want me to get any work done, this thing has got to go."

A few days later when she manages to hobble in to the shop on her crutches for work that morning, she finds a brand new iMac waiting for her at the desk she's claimed as her own. She doesn't say anything. Just sits down and begins working. But there's a smile on her face nonetheless and one of the walls she's built up around her heart seems to crumble ever so slightly.

Despite her promises to herself, Lacey finds herself growing comfortable in their arrangement. She tries to stay out of Gold's way as much as possible both in the shop and at his home, for her sake more than his. After letting slip that she's a fairly decent seamstress, Gold lets her work her way through a trunk of vintage dresses, fixing seams and sewing back on buttons and the like. It's more fun work than the spreadsheets and she enjoys it. When she finds a sequin mini dress that must be from the disco era, Gold tells her she can keep it and her heart beats a little faster at the gesture.

At home, she spends most of her time in her library room, working her way through the shelves of books to pass the time. Lacey has never been much of a reader, but there's not much else for entertainment at Gold's house. He doesn't have a television, she's realized. No home computer either. It's either books or seeking out the master of the house, so she mostly sticks with the books.

She sticks to lighter fare. There's a few old John Grisham novels that are quick enough reads, if a bit predictable. Next she moves on to the Stephen King shelf. There's even an entire collection of Harry Potter novels that she plans to move on to after she finishes "The Stand". She'd never have expected Gold to harbor so much pop fiction and yet here she is, curled up in pajamas at 10:00 at night, thoroughly engrossed in the apocalypse. She almost thinks Belle would be proud of her and, for once, thoughts of her sister fill her with warmth rather than pain.

Lacey never would have expected to find herself home with a book rather than out at a bar on a Saturday night, but nothing feels the same anymore. It's like the world is shifting, a lazy river suddenly turning rapid and pulling her along with it. She feels like the changes have been so slow and gradual that she didn't realize she was moving until it was too late and she's already halfway down the bank. Now she's here in Gold's house with Gold's books and in Gold's shop with Gold's computer. She is surrounded by him at all times and it almost feels right, like things were meant to be this way. When she starts thinking like that, Lacey shakes it off and loses herself in another novel.

In addition to working in the shop, she tries to earn her keep at home. She's determined not to inconvenience Gold in the slightest, going out of her way to make sure she cleans up after herself. She helps with dinner to the best of her limited abilities, even though that means spending even more time in Gold's company.

And that is her downfall in the end. She knows she loves him. She knows his smiles and his quips and his kindness will lure her in. And yet she goes willingly down that coursing river she can't seem to stop.

It is three weeks after she's moved in when she gets her cast removed, replaced with a more manageable boot. Her increased mobility means she'll be able to do more around the shop and perhaps even manage the stairs at Gold's house. Lacey leaves the hospital, maneuvering on her crutches with much more ease, feeling almost light hearted. It's a beautiful spring day, she's healing well, and Gold was wearing her favorite tie at the shop that morning, the blue paisley one. She wants to celebrate; the first time she's felt that urge in longer than she can remember. And so she takes her most recent paycheck down to the market and buys a mid priced bottle of sparkling wine. She's certain Gold has much better in his wine cellar at home, but she's tired of using Gold's things. Buying a bottle of wine for herself with money she earned feels good, like she's not totally dependent on someone else.

It's just a little splurge. The bulk of her paycheck is going directly into a shoebox on the shelf next to her bed. She hasn't forgotten her promise to leave town again as soon as she's back on her feet, physically and financially. Three weeks hasn't managed to give her much of a nest egg, but she's got a little cash to her name and Lacey is feeling almost optimistic for the first time in recent memory. It's all due to Gold and she finds that she wants to thank him for everything he's done.

When she makes it back to Gold's, she puts the wine on ice to chill and sets about sprucing herself up. She hasn't put much effort into her appearance since the accident, but today she drags out a bit of her drugstore makeup applying blush and highlighter and mascara. By the time she's done she thinks she looks reasonably decent. With her hair pulled up and clothed in one of the nicer skirts Gold bought her when she first arrived, she almost looks like her old self.

When Gold gets home from the shop a while later, Lacey is seated at the kitchen table, the wine bucket next to her elbow and a delivery pizza spread out before her.

"What's all this?" he asks as he enters the kitchen, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Lacey responds by propping her newly booted foot up on the table.

"Can't a girl celebrate new shoes? I got a new boot today."

"Ah," Gold breathes. "So you're healing up well then?"

Lacey frowns at him. He almost sounds disappointed at her progress.

"Try not to be too thrilled," she deadpans.

"I am," he says unconvincingly. "Thrilled."

He turns his back on her and Lacey half expects him to leave the room. But he just crosses to the kitchen cabinets and pulls out two wineglasses, holding them by the stems in one hand.

"Does this mean you'll be moving out soon?" he asks, his back still to her.

Perhaps he does want her gone after all. Perhaps she is the nuisance she expects to be. Perhaps all Gold's kindness over the past few weeks has been nothing more than a sense of obligation, like he owes her something for the sex and the fact that she wears his dead wife's face and nothing more.

"I guess I could go back to my old apartment now," she says, her heart sinking in spite of herself. "Stairs aren't the issue they were."

She doesn't want to go, as sickening as it is to admit. She's enjoyed her time here and she shouldn't have. As soon as the awkwardness started to wear off she should have hightailed it out of this pink palace and slept rough rather than keep on feeling like she might actually belong somewhere. Any time Lacey has ever felt the least bit happy it has immediately been torn from her.

She sold all her furniture. Her pitiful little apartment will look even more pitiful without her second hand sofa and the card table she used for dining. She supposes she could find a mattress for cheap, something to sleep on at least. But that would cut in to her already small stack of cash. It would set her back on ever leaving Storybrooke and now that she knows where Gold stands it seems pertinent she keep that dream on track.

Gold returns to the table, setting the wineglasses down with a gentle clack. Lacey isn't sure if alcohol will make things better or worse now. Her celebratory mood has evaporated, but getting shit faced is an appealing idea. Maybe she should skip the wine and try for something stronger.

"You don't have to," he says, his voice so low she almost misses it. "Move out, I mean."

Lacey just stares at him her heart beating rapidly in her chest. It seems like something important might be about to happen and she's not sure what.

"You're already settled here," Gold continues as he pops the cork on the wine and pours them each a measure of it, sparkling and frothing in the glass. "Since you're only staying in Storybrooke on a temporary basis you might as well stay here rather than move only to move again a few months on."

Lacey lets out the breath she was holding, pulling the wineglass to her and taking a fortifying sip. "Okay," she agrees. "I'll stay."

Gold looks up at her in surprise. He was expecting her to leave. Lacey concedes that there's a good reason for that. Running away is what she does best after all.

"Good," he says after a long moment, his eyes drifting away from her again. There's a tension in the air, something Lacey doesn't want to inspect too closely at the moment, so she just drinks more of her wine and pops open the pizza box to offer Gold a slice.

After dinner they take their wine into the living room and sit on the sofa together. It's uncharted territory. Usually after dinner and the subsequent clean up, Lacey retires to her library and leaves Gold to his own devices. But something feels different tonight.

The bubbly wine has gone slightly to Lacey's head. She hasn't had anything to drink in a while and she thinks her tolerance might be shot. She knows she should probably just go to bed. But instead they talk, about the shop, about the town, about the fact that Mary Margaret Blanchard apparently up and murdered some poor woman. When Lacey asks Gold if he thinks she's guilty he just gives her an enigmatic smile.

"Of course not," he says. "And if she's smart enough to hire me as her attorney I'll prove it."

Lacey laughs, throwing her head back. It's not even that funny, but she's half drunk and it feels so damn good to just laugh about something. She thinks there was a time when she was fun and carefree but it feels so long ago she can hardly remember. It's like her life was separated into two halves, before Belle and after Belle. The Lacey after Belle has never been someone she particularly warmed to. But then again, the Lacey before Belle was probably pretty shite too.

She downs the rest of her wine, thunking the glass down on to the coffee table. They've almost killed the bottle and Lacey thinks it was money well spent just to feel this loose and happy for once. She's been miserable for so long and she just wants to feel good, for one night. What could it hurt other than her heart, her sense of self preservation and the tenuous grip she has on life as a whole?

With that in mind she leans back into the couch, scooting a little closer to Gold. She can feel the warmth of him through their layers of clothes, smell the scent of his expensive cologne. If she closes her eyes she can almost remember exactly how it felt to have his hands on her, his lips worshipping her, his cock thick and hard inside of her. It's been so damn long.

She trails a hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands from his forehead and Gold leans in to her touch almost as if on instinct.

"You're a good man," she says, tugging on his hair until he's forced to look at her. "I know I never say that, but it's true."

She's been so quick to cast him as the villain in her story because it's easier than admitting the truth: that she fucked up as badly as he did, that she's brought every ounce of misery on herself. But Gold has always been here trying his best to keep her head above water. Whether it's actual love or obligation or Belle that keeps him tied to her she's still not certain, but she's also not entirely sure it matters.

Gold's eyes are shadowed, pained as he watches her.

"I'm really not," he says, shaking his head and causing the rough five o'clock stubble on his jaw to scrape across her palm. She shivers at the friction, imagining that stubble scraping somewhere lower down. Lacey moves her hand from his hair, letting it drift down to cup against his cheek instead and Gold lets out a sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. And she knows then and there what she wants more than anything. And she's had enough wine to silence the alarm bells in her head.

She leans forward, ever so slightly. They're already so close on the sofa that it takes little enough movement on her end to bring her lips up to his, brushing against them lightly.

Gold's eyes fly open in shock and he nearly flinches. Lacey pauses, waiting for him to tell her no or pull her closer or do anything at all.

"What are you doing?" he rasps out, his eyes a little wild. He looks skittish, frightened. She did this to him. She's the one who put that look of fear in his eyes, that she will love him and then leave just as everyone does. Just as Belle did.

"Kissing you," she says frankly.

Gold shakes his head.

"Kissing me breaks the promise, remember?"

She does remember. She told him things wouldn't go back to how they'd been. She knows that she will not survive losing him again, of giving in to this thing between them and watching it crumble under the weight of so many memories. But Lacey has always been the self-destructive sort. She will burn and she will take Gold down with her until they are nothing but ash, but they'll be ash together. She's tired of fighting it.

"I don't give a fuck."

She leans in to Gold again, and this time he doesn't push her away.


End file.
